The shy little cat yelps continued. I followed the sound to the closet, where a box of toys was askew like it had either fallen off a chair or, shrug, had just been left like that. Reader, I freaked. I assumed it had fallen and in that case, I knew that under that pile of Playskool Plastic was a now paraplegic cat.
I backed out of the room and called for Chuck. I can do a lot of things. In fact, right now I'm making squash bread -- a recipe that required ingenuity when it came to finding a substitute for eggs. One thing I cannot do: I cannot be the person to discover that our cat's spine is irreparably damaged because of a Rocktivity Piano.
Chuck thought the cat cries were coming from the linen closet. Hal has been known to hang out among the old pillows and fitted sheets. He wasn't there.
"He's in her closet," I insisted, but I edited out the horrific visual playing in my head.
By then he had stopped in front of her dresser and opened the second drawer to find the cat nestled into a mix of T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts. The drawer open, Hal jumped out and scurried out of the room.
How did Hal get into the drawer? Good Q.
Both cats can open drawers. They proved this back when we kept their treats in a drawer in the kitchen.
But how did the drawer then get closed? Also a Good Q.
I like to think that Orin opened the drawer, lured Hal in, then pushed it closed. A demon cat who learned at the elbow of Macaulay Culkin.
"What would have happened if we'd like been on vacation?" Chuck asked.
Ugh. We would get home after 10 days of fun and sun and I'd go upstairs to get a hoodie for The Girl. I'd open her second drawer to find ... I shuddered. The smell alone.